


Tea

by EuterpesChild



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - The Empty Hearse, First Kiss, M/M, Not Season/Series 03 Compliant, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuterpesChild/pseuds/EuterpesChild
Summary: Originally written in 2013 and posted to deviantArt.My version of what the first episode of the next BBC Sherlock season should be, because we all know this is what is going to happen.





	

John limped up the stairs into his flat and entered the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He had just paid his daily visit to Sherlock's grave, and that always made him depressed.  
When the tea was done, he limped heavily into the living room and turned on the telly. He'd never liked crap telly much, but he watched it now as much for nostalgia's sake as just to have noise in the room. It wasn't the same without Sherlock in his armchair yelling at the screen, though. But it was the best he had, and he could imagine all the times Sherlock had gotten angry at some stupid program that John hadn't even been paying attention to.   
"Well, is he the boy's father?" John asked of an empty room. When only silence answered him, as it had for the past three years, John sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. He pulled Sherlock's old blue dressing gown over him for warmth, and fell asleep to the sound of the telly.  
"You kept that old thing?" John woke with a start at the voice. He knew he had to be dreaming. It couldn't be him! How could it? He had seen him jump, had been at the funeral. He didn't dare open his eyes, for fear it was his imagination.   
"Three years I'm gone, and this is the welcome I get?" He couldn't dream up that cynicism no matter how hard he tried, so John opened his eyes. Jet-black curly hair and piercing blue eyes he had dreamed about every night for three years were there in front of him. John practically leapt off the couch in shock.   
"You- you were dead. I saw you. I felt your pulse. You were dead!" John was yelling by the end of his sentence. Sherlock put up his hands placatingly and took a step back.   
"Look, I wish I hadn't had to do this. I'm sorry-"  
"You're sorry?" said John, moving forward. "Do you know what I've had to live with for the past three years? Do you? Do you have any idea what you did to Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade, and your brother? Do you have any idea what you did to me?!" Sherlock began to stammer out an apology in an attempt to get John to listen, but John was too fast for him. He punched Sherlock hard in the side of the face, and Sherlock fell onto the table. Holding his hand to his cheek, he rose slowly, saying, "I suppose I deserved-" but again John moved too fast for him. He grabbed Sherlock's coat lapels, pulling him upright, and kissed a stunned Sherlock full on the mouth. Sherlock's astonishment lasted only a moment before he returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around John.   
John pulled away suddenly, and Sherlock looked almost disappointed, though thoroughly stunned at what had just happened: both the punch and what had happened after. They stood staring at each other for a moment before John broke the silence.  
"Shall I make some tea?"


End file.
